Shatter
by Dawnstar08
Summary: A miracle is needed. Luckily, one is on her way. Actual summary is the prologue.
1. Prologue

A cheesy, short prologue, but it buys me some time to write the next chapter. Let me know how it is!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Shiver or Linger, or either of their plots.

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To most who live in Mercy Falls, life is ordinary. Nothing strange ever breaks the constant rhythm of everyday life. Each day is safe and ritual; each moment holds an assumed regularity. They are not constantly alert, under so much stress that it becomes unbearable. They do not lie awake at night, heart torn in two as the wolves in the woods howl.

To some living in Mercy Falls, none of the above circumstances apply. They are caught in the middle of a silent battle, one against the peculiar nature of wolf toxins and morphs and the inevitability of cold temperatures. These individuals fight their battle unseen, praying that no one will learn of their secret. Their lives are secluded. Their hearts are strong. They struggle to survive.

This is the story of a small town. The boundary between that of the expected and of the supernatural has thinned. Innocent people are getting dangerously close to that which can harm them. Secrets cannot last forever, and the potent secret of the woods of Mercy Falls and its occupants inches nearer and nearer to the open with every passing day. Those holding back the dangerous truths are growing more and more desperate. A miracle is needed.

Luckily, one is on her way.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Shiver or ever intend do. The chapter title format thingy is also not mine.

Enjoy! Please pay the review button a visit. He's lonely.

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**Erin**

**-7° F**

_Holy crap._ Arms wrapped around myself in an attempt to keep warm, I slammed the door shut with my shoulder, shivering violently. After taking just a few brave steps outside of the house, I'd felt as if my very breath was frozen, and I chickened out. The wind howled outside the windows like some kind of wild animal, driving the snow up into high drifts.

Regretfully loosening my tightly wrapped arms, I leaned off of the door and knelt down to unlace my boots. _So much for some exercise,_ I though sullenly.

"Back already?" Mom called from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I called back. "It's _freezing_ out there." I could here her snort loudly. "What?" I asked defensively, poking my head around the corner.

Mom was making dinner. "I didn't know you were such a wimp," she replied teasingly, arms full of some leafy plant matter. She shot me a glance, a wicked smile playing on her face. I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly.

"You know, all you have to do is stop by the local orphanage and swap me in for some other kid," I pointed out, walking over to the counter and sliding onto a stool. "You could get a cute baby or something in exchange."

Mom made a face. "Babies cry too much," she complained. "I'm looking for something more of the toddler type. 6 years or older. No younger." She winked, her sign to me that she was joking.

"You already have Yam," I remarked, jerking my thumb toward the stairs. "Most of the time he acts like a 6-year-old." Mom nodded thoughtfully, setting down the leaves and picking up a huge tray laden with raw chicken.

At that moment, my brother came thudding down the stairs and bounced into the room. He grabbed a chair, swung it around and sat on it backwards, propping his elbows on the back. He swept his banks out of his eyes with a jerk of his head, a nasty habit that really bugged me.

"Speak of the devil!" Mom said, opening the oven door with her foot and placing the tray inside.

My brother's real name is Ryan, but when I was younger, I couldn't pronounce his name properly, so I called him Yam. The name, to Ryan's slight annoyance, stuck, and I rarely ever call him Ryan anymore.

Yam raised an eyebrow, a feat I've never been able to do. "You guys were talking about me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in exaggerated suspicion.

"Yup. Mom's decided she's giving me away to the orphanage," I explained, grinning.

Yam groaned loudly. "Ma, how many times do we have to tell you, we're a matching set; two for the price of one! You can't just give one of us away!"

Mom laughed. "Gosh, I was just _kidding_." She shook her head and turned her back on us, opening a cabinet to grab a large pot.

I loved watching my mom in the kitchen. She was so confident and skilled, and her food always tasted great. Neither Yam nor I had inherited her skill for cooking and Dad was usually busy, so Mom always had the kitchen to herself.

Rolling three reddish onions out of a bag, she stripped off the outer husk, washed them, and placed them on the cutting board. Knife in hand, she began to chop them the way you see on TV, dicing the onion into small, even slices with fast chops. You know, the kind of way that whenever you try to copy, you nearly cut off all of you fingers.

Eyes watering profusely, I watched Mom scrape the onions off the cutting board and into the pot in one fluid motion.

"Alright," Yam declared loudly. "I'm outta here. Can't stand chopped onions." He got to his feet, eyes streaming, and I followed suit. Mom rolled her eyes, which ironically were _not_ watering.

Yam and I escaped to the family room. I cranked up the heat while Yam crashed on the couch. Sitting down next to him, my eyes were drawn to the window. Night already fell, yet the wind still raged outside. Snow whipped by, disappearing into the night.

"Pretty windy out there," Yam commented, following my gaze. I nodded absentmindedly, still watching the swirling snow. Yam leaned over and waved his hand in front of my face. "Rin, snap out of it," he said, and I started.

Rin is Yam's pet name for me. He feels that since I have a nickname for him, he can have a nickname for me.

"Sorry," I sighed, blinking a few times and turning toward him. Yam gave me an _Uh huh_ look. He shook his bangs out of his eyes.

"Can you stop that?" I snapped, glowering.

Yam almost fell over. "W-what?" he stammered, caught off guard.

I glared at him. "You know what I'm talking about," I insisted.

"No, honestly!" Yam said, holding his hands up defensively. "I have no idea _what_ you're talking about."

I sighed in exasperation. "Stop sweeping your bangs out of your eyes like that. It drives me crazy!" I glared at him again, and Yam smiled sheepishly. "One of these days I'm going to shave your head while you're asleep," I threatened.

Yam snorted with laughter. "You'd never get away with it," he laughed. He swept his bangs out of his eyes again, just to annoy me.

I narrowed my eyes. "You play a dangerous game, mister," I growled.

The effect was spoiled as the front door opened. "I'm home!" my dad called above the scream of the wind outside. Swinging my legs off the side of the couch I got up, shooting one last threatening glare at Yam before leaving the family room.

"Dad!" I shouted. "Close the door!" Dad looked around, jumped in surprise when he saw all of the snow he'd let in, and wrestled with the door, finally managing to shut it against the driving wind.

"Hey, Erin," he said, glancing guiltily at the hallway now dusted with snow. "Uh, how was your day?"

"Fine, and you'd better go distract Mom before she notices that you let in a glacier coming in the door," I said, indicating that he should hurry along. As he pasted, I was sure I heard him mutter, "Kids."

This is my life: a light-hearted mom, a forgetful dad, and an insufferable twin. We're a very loving and sarcastic family. I'd never dreamed that one day things would ever go wrong, but they did. It all started when I knocked a complete stranger out with a three-hole puncher.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Shoulda', woulda', coulda', but didn'… erm, don't own anything created my Maggie Stiefvater. I also don't own Staples. _That was easy!_

Wait, are they really making Shiver into a movie? This could be bad…

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**Ben**

**-2° F**

I didn't even know it could _get_ this cold in Mercy Falls, but it did. We were scraping negative digits, and it was only December. Ironic how it can be 10 below and school is still in session. As students, we deserve some sort of sympathy when it's this cold. I don't care if there's not enough snow for a snow day, just give us a "freezing-you-butt-off" day or something.

Anyway, it's winter vacation. Thankfully it wasn't one of those vacations where the teachers dump you with loads of work and say "Have fun on vacation!" This time, none of the teachers in the school seemed too anxious to grade papers when the got back, so I had no means by which to entertain myself during the long two weeks. So instead of lazing around or procrastinating, I decided I'd try taking up a job. I got one at Staples, being one of those sales people who walk around asking people if they need help finding things.

I've learned all sorts of useless nonsense, such as that a ruler is insanely easy to break, and sharpies don't come individually sold anymore. I've also learned that you should never go around and press all of the Easy buttons all at the same time. You'll get some pretty dirty looks, trust me.

One of the downsides to working at Staples is the people you have to work with. It's your job to find the stupidest customer in the entire store, put on a fake smile, and ask them if they need help finding something. Some people can't even remember what they're looking for, while some others will get defensive if you offer your help. Okay, storm off looking for something you won't find. It's not like I'm getting paid to help you or anything.

I hadn't been working very long at Staples – about three days – when disaster struck. I didn't really think that a being sales person was a dangerous job, but apparently it was.

I guess it was my fault. It was a slow day, and not much was getting done. I saw a cute girl looking at something and frowning – that's the code word for "sales person needed". _Lucky day_, I though, being my usual foolish and stupid self. Damn you, curiosity.

I woke up several hours later in the emergency room.

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**Erin**

My stupid brother somehow managed to break my three-hole puncher, and he refused to pay for it. I thought they were indestructible. How the heck did he manage to break it? Beside the point, I drove myself to the nearest Staples to get a replacement. Simple, right? Not.

I pride myself with independence, and had no problem figuring out where the hole punchers were. The only problem was that one was three dollars more than the other, and as far as I could tell they were identical. I had one of the three-hole punchers in my hand and was inspecting it when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. From my vantage point, it looked like Yam sneaking up on me. I was already really pissed off at him at that point, and I refused to stand for anymore of his childish behavior.

Gripping the three-hole puncher tighter, I whirled around… and clocked the sales person standing behind me.

"Oh… oh my god," I gasped, shocked.

The guy I'd hit's eyes were squeezed shut. He swayed slightly on the spot. "That," he said weakly, "is gonna hurt in the morning," and he collapsed to the ground.

As you can imagine, I freaked out and called 911. The emergency people came with their sirens blazing, the whole thing. They asked some questions and took the guy I'd knocked out to the hospital. Feeling like it was my responsibility, I went with them. The paramedics did all sorts of things that you see in movies, and they talked using professional medical words that I can't even pronounce. The entire time I thought I had killed the guy.

The next few hours after that were a blur. The doctors tested him, reassured me that he only had a minor concussion, and left the unconscious Staples sales person in a hospital bed while they attended to someone else.

It was the first time that I actually got a good look at my "victim". He was about my age is not a big older, and definitely taller. His hair was so dark that I couldn't tell if it was brown or black. It was really awkward to just sit there next to an unconscious person, so I got up and grabbed the remote to the TV in the corner and flipped it on. The only thing that wasn't a soap opera or a cliché romance was a horror movie in which aliens invaded the world. I leaned back in my chair and settled in for a long wait.

The alien movie was so creepy that when the Staples boy finally came around, I nearly fell out of my chair in fright. It took me a second or so to calm down, and by them he had blearily opened his eyes.

The boy winced slightly and his hand jumped up to touch his head. He blinked a few times, and looked at the screen.

"Aliens?" he asked, a bit confused.

I quickly turned it off. "Yeah," I said hurriedly. "I had to wait a while."

The boy frowned. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"About… three hours," I said, checking my watch.

Looking around the room properly for the first time, the boy seemed surprised to be in a hospital. He tried to sit up, but exhaled sharply and lay back down, biting his lip. He sighed. "You called 911?" he asked, squinting up at me.

I nodded. "I wasn't really sure what to do," I explained lamely. "Uh…" There was a long pause. "Sorry?"

The boy propped himself up on his elbows. "So you're the one who threw the three-hole puncher at me," he said, more of a fact than a question.

He was staring at me. Well, not really staring. More like… _scrutinizing_. Sizing me up. It was a bit unnerving, yet at the same time a bit flattering.

"I didn't throw it," I muttered defensively. "I just… whacked you in the head with it. By accident," I added hastily.

There was another slightly longer pause. Gritting my teeth, I stuck out my hand. "My name's Erin," I offered. Before I really knew what was going on, the boy had whipped out a sharpie and was writing on my outstretched palm.

"I'm Ben," he said, giving me back my hand. On my palm was scribbled a phone number. I stared at it stupidly for a few moments. "It's my phone number," the guy named Ben said patiently. "I figured you're an interesting person if you go around throwing hole punchers at people."

"Hitting, not throwing," I corrected, still a bit out of it. "And I don't do that all the time."

Ben smiled and leaned back on his pillows. In a few seconds he was passed out again.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Shiver, but if I did, I'd make Forever's cover red. It's gonna be epic.

Thank you to . for the first reply! Hopefully I'll get more. ((Hint hint…)) R&R, mes amis!

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**Ben**

**4° F**

The day after my little fiasco in the emergency room, my boss Mike Miller called me at my apartment.

"Ben, I _forbade_ you from coming to work," he said firmly, his voice sounding different over the phone. "Get some rest. I don't want you 'attacked' by any other customer at least until you recover fully." I made sounds of protest but Mike threatened to fire me if I came to work, to which I pointed out the irony. He laughed, bid me farewell, and hung up.

Instead of working that day, which I would have much preferred, I read classics and drank green tea. My mom would have a fit if she thought I wasn't drinking enough green tea, so every once in a while I consented to her will. The tea did its wonders, and by the end of the day, my headache had been reduced to no more than a slight throbbing.

That night was the worst. I've never been a good sleeper, and it was only reluctantly that I prepared for what would not doubt be a struggle. Not long after I drifted off, I had dreams.

"_Maybe you should just leave."_

"_Yeah, maybe I will!"_

"_Go on. No one's stopping you."_

I woke each time in the same spot, right after the door slammed shut in my face. After the third unsuccessful attempt at peaceful sleep, I gave up.

The sun wasn't up yet, but the sky had lightened for the occasion. Throwing on a clean t-shirt and a fresh set of jeans, I settled down to finish reading my book.

It was midday when the girl Erin called my cell phone. I'd been hoping that she would call, even though I couldn't pinpoint the reason. I tried to convince myself that she owed me at least a phone call.

I picked up the phone on the second ring. "Ben Champion," I said.

"Hi, this is Erin Jefferson," the voice on the other end replied. "The one who, uh, violent attacked you in Staples the other day."

"Oh, hi Erin," Ben said, feeling a slightly lurch in his stomach despite himself. "How's it going?"

"Fine. Just following up to see how things were going."

"I'm doing pretty well. No headache," I said. There was only one way to do this. "Now that I have you on the phone, do you want to grab a coffee or something? I know a place in Duluth where we could meet." And so it was that I actually _met_ the person who had accidentally entered my life.

We met in a café in Duluth and had civil conversation over two cups of coffee. Erin proved herself to be smart and witty. I found myself relaxing and being able to talk with her easily. She wasn't shy by any means, and took the liberty to tell me a little about her family.

"Wow, a twin," I said, a bit startled. "Must be hard to get rid of each other."

Erin rolled her eyes. "You don't know half of it. He's such an insufferable butthead at times. He was the reason I went to get a three-hole puncher in the first place."

"Why? So that you could hit him in the head with it?" I asked jokingly. Erin shot me an exasperated look.

"The only reason I hit you was because I thought you were my brother, sneaking up to tickle me or something of the sort," Erin sighed.

I nodded, sipping my coffee thoughtfully. "He's really that bad?" I asked.

"Nah, he's for the most part funny and a good sport. He just likes picking on me."

After my small-talk reservoir was empty and the caffeine had been consumed, we got up. Erin refused to let me pay for the coffee myself, so we both left a few bills behind. After leaving the café but before we went our ways, Erin stopped me.

"This," she said, breath steaming in the subfreezing air, "is for you." She held out a scrap of paper, which I took. "It's my phone number."

"Thanks," I said, pocketing the slip.

"I don't have anything planned for tomorrow, and I'd rather not be around Yam all day," Erin said. At my confused look, she explained, "Yam is my brother."

"Ah," I said, connecting the dots. It took me a second to hear the question in her statement. "Funnily enough," I said, "I'm not doing anything tomorrow either. Shall we meet again? Same time, same place?"

"Deal." She waved good-bye and walked back to her car. I exhaled, watching my breath swirl upward, and then turned to leave.


End file.
